



M ■'^^'^/tSrrt^ <^irt:iS:U^^t:^^> 











AND HIS 



enM/^fl/ ^ iipi/. 



ILLUSTRATED. 



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"Db. MARY D: BRINE, 

Authoj- of '■'■Grandma's Attic Treasures ," "From Gold to Grey," etc., etc. 



COPYRIGHTED BY T. E. D. DARLING. 




[^ JiiL 23 1887.y" 



New York : 
T. E. D. DARLING. 



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■^r.^n 



^11 1 through the day the ^A^ind and rain 

Had driven o'er each street and lane 

Of our big eity, till at last 

The t^vi light shado^vs gathered fast. - 

And tv^^inkling through the gloom about 

The misty city lights shone out; 

Some from the honaes ^vhere love and peace 

Would help -discomfort quickly cease ; 

Sonne from the homes v^here hand in hand 

Grim poverty and pain Avould stand; 

And some, alas I from haunts ^vhere men 

Forged for their vv^oes ne^v chains again. 

Amid the cro^vd that jostled by, 

With tired feet and stifled sigh, 

Went Bennie Moore, a blue-eyed lad, 

The only joy his mother had. 

3he ^A^as a ^A^idov^. Day by day 



J I^S sewed hep health and strength a^vay, 
While her young son, ^A^ith anxious heart, 
To help her bravely tried his part. 
And v/alked the busy eity through, 
Seeking some w^ork to find and do. 
Yet search v/as vain. Men said that he 
Looked ^veak an "errand-boy" to be; 
Looked sick and small ; in fact they had 
No jobs to give so young a lad. 
And so with each discouraged night 
Came tears to dim the blue eyes' light, 
While Bennie in his heart v/ould say, 
"Please, Lord, do help mamma, I pray!" 
All through this day of chilling rain 
The boy had tried and tried again 
*'Odd jobs" to find, of any kind — 
Or hard or light, he would not mind. 
But no^v, still empty-handed, he 
Went shivering homeAvard, v/earily, 
The earnest question on his tongue, 



a 



ir|8rnrn§^, ?> nine years old too young 
For AA^ork?" ''Dear child," she ans^A^ered, ''you 
Are not as strong — alas, 'tis true — 
As many other boys you meet 
Each day upon the busy street. 
Be patient till you're older gro^A^n, 
T/ien Mother will not toil alone." 
So little Bennie's heart gre^A^ sore. 
He pondered his grave question o'er, 
Till suddenly a happy thought 
By his quick, eager brain ^A^as caught. 
Nor did he let it go till he 
Had studied it most thoroughly. 
He kne^A^— ^A^hat little boy does not? — 
Of that most fascinating spot 
Called " Country." Every dear child knov/s 
It is a lovely place that grows 
Outside of city v^-alls and lies 
All free beneath the distant skies. 
Our Bennie had no map to trace 



^ town, locality or place ; 

He only kne^A^ that somewhere gre^A^ 

High hills, and happy valleys, too. 

He only longed, AA^ith all his heart, 

From city v/ays and \voes to part ; 

To go AA^here boys v/ere not so many 

And he could earn an honest penny. 

All night he pondered on his plan 

Till morning came. Dear little man! 

Ho^A^ quick his tongue found leave to speak. 

When mother's kiss v^as on his cheek: 

*' Mother, dear Mother, I miust go!" 

He plead ; " for in my heart I know 

That some kind farmer v^ill eixiploy 

And find some errands for your boy. 

Then when the Christnaas time shall come 

I'll bring my earnings safely home; 

And you and I, O Mother dear, 

Will have a happy Christmas cheer" 

**Ah, Bennie, no!" she sadly said. 



M)Ut Bennie, as she shook her head, 

Fell back upon his last resource. 

" No^v look at me, mamma, of course, 

I shall be gro^A^ing strong and well 

In the fresh air. You cannot tell 

HoAA^ sure I am that it vv^ill be 

The very best of things for me." 

His mother gazed upon him there. 

The little face ^^ras far too fair 

For perfect health, and well she kne^v 

The shado^A^ in those eyes so blue. 

"CB.n it be God's o^A^n plan," thought she, 

'' Which, though it take my child from me 

Yet offers health and strength to him ? 

Dare I refuse?" Her eyes gre^A^ dim. 

She laid her hand upon his head. 

''God bless you, Bennie, go I" she said. 




Olsi Amos Green came up the hill 
From his broad meadow land below, 
Just as the setting sun had shed 
O'er hill and dale its crimson glow. 
The farmer whistled as he walked, 
And to his shepherd dog he talked 
With kindly notice. "Shep, old boy. 
Life after all is full of joy, 
If folks would only look about 
An' try to pick its comforts out, 
Instead o' grumblin' day by day. 



(j^QUCC things don't always go their ^A^ay." 
Shep ^A/agged his tail, then paused to hark; 
Pricked up his ears, and v/ith a bark 
Went bounding forward to the gate, 
Where he had seen a figure vv^ait. 
A little figure, thinly elad, 
A tired, yet a hopeful lad ; 
For on the farmer's sunburned face, 
Surprise to kindly smiles gave place. 
"Why, bless my soul! who have ^A^e here?" 
Then Bennie, ^A^ithout shame or fear, 
Told ^A^ho he was, and ^A^hence he came ; 
Showed his small feet, so bruised and laiTie, 
From climbing hills, and walking o'er 
Long roads he ne'er had seen before — 
Told also zo/iy he'd come a^A^ay 
From home, in a strange place to stay. 
" Pve stopped at many a house to see 
If anybody ^A^anted me ; 
Put I'm too little. Don't folks kno\A^ 



©I^S^L little boys can biggei^ gro^A^?" 

He stopped and laid his soft, pale cheek 

On Shep's broad head. Shep couldn't speak, 

But v/ith his eyes he seemed to say : 

'' Master, don't send the boy av^^ay." 

"Well, lad, AA^hat is it you would do?" 

Asked Farmer Green, " Stay here ^A^ith you, 

And do odd jobs and things. You'll see 

Hov/ useful I ^A^ill try to be," 

Was Bennie's eager ansv/er, while 

He lightened 'neath the old man's smile. 

" Please, sir, I'm tired AA^ith my walk, 

And most too tired to even talk!" 

Then came the farmer's sister, Prue — 

(Beloved of children ^A^ere those t^vo, 

Who in their cheerful home together 

Had bravely shared life's changeful AA^eather ; — 

Those two alone, and loving all 

Young folks around, or large or small, 

Were lovingly by children claimed, 



yi\n(^, " Uncle," "Auntie," they ^A^ere named.) 

She eanae, Aunt Prue, and laid her hand 

On Bennie's bro^A^, " We understand, 

Poor little boy! Don't tremble sol 

Amos, ^A^e'U need his help, I knov^, 

As little chore boy. Surely v^e 

Won't grudge the pay to such as he." 

NoAA^ fancy little Ben, each day, 

His young heart gro^A^ing light and gay, 

And more than that, so grateful, too, 

For all the AA^ork he found to do ; 

''And, dear naamma, it's so much better 

(He told his mother in his letter), 

"To live up here where fields are Avide, 

And there is lots of sky, beside ; 

And AA/here I kno^A^, that every day, 

// ?> /or you I earn my pay. 

My farmer is so kind to me! 

I call him Uncle Amos — he 

Is that to all the children here, 



I m sure you'd love him, mother dear!" 
All this, and more beside, did Ben 
In his o^A^n fashion Avrite ; and then 
The kind old farmer dropped it in 
The mail-box ^vith a merry grin, 
To think ho^v Bennie little knev/ 
That with it v^ent — a "greenback," too. 
Well, days slipped by, and Amos Green, 
As it Avas plainly to be seen, 
Gve^^r very fond of Ben, the ^A^hile 
Aunt Prue's devotion made him smile. 
*' You'll spoil the boy!" he often cried. 
"No less will you!" Aunt Prue replied. 
And Ben, except for missing mother, 
Preferred this home to any other. 
November's reign ^A^as o'er at last ; 
The "holidays" v/ere coming fast. 
Each Aveek Ben dropped his pennies in 
The little savings bank of tin ; 
Each ^veek he felt its vv^eight again. 



'^^ 



®W§^^ gro^A^ing heavier, that was plain. 
Ho^A^ far, how very far a^vay 
To Bennie seemed that dismal day 
Of v^ind and rain, the last one he 
Had walked the streets so tearfully ; 
Because he tried the long day through 
And had not found a ''job" to do ! 
Since then how happy he had grov/n, 
And ho^A^ the days had fairly flov^n 
With all the chores he had on hand I 
(He ne'er Avas idle, understand, 
While yet one duty v^as undone 
Before the setting of the sun.) 
He helped the farmer feed the cows, 
And helped to turn them out to browse ; 
He took the horse to ^vater, then 
Rode bare-back to the barn again ; 
He fed the chickens every day. 
And hunted for the eggs so ^vhite. 
And fed the great Avhite pig, and oh I 



JO busy he from morn till night, 
That Aunele Amos used to say, 
" I tell you, Ben, I do not kno^v 
HoAA^ I could run this farm if you 
Were not on hand to run it too." 
At Christmas-time Ben meant to be 
With his mamma again. But she, 
Still anxious for his health, ^A^rote, " No. 
Stay till the cold ^A^inds cease to blo^v." 
Then, thoughtful, loving Auntie Prue 
Said, "Ben, I'll tell you what we'll do. 
Send on your money. Don't you see 
What a nice Christmas-gift 't^vill be 
For mother from her boy? And more 
You'll earn before the winter's o'er. 
At Christmas I mvHI give for you 
A little party. Just a few 
Of happy children gathered here 
To help you taste of Christmas cheer." 
"A Christmas party?" Bennie's eyes 



i^FGW sunny as the sunniest skies. 

He'd heard of such, poor little boy! 

But ne'er had tasted of the joy 

Which Christmas pleasures ever bring 

To homes ^vhere life's best sunbeanns eling. 

And so he counted patiently, 

The days ere Christmas-time should be, 

And every evening brought his books 

With ^villing heart and cheery looks 

To study with kind Auntie Prue, 

And practice up his AA^riting too ; 

For very glad ^A^as she, indeed, 

To help him in his every need. 

Well satisfied when on her cheek 

He'd kiss the thanks he could not speak. 



fe'O ! for the merry Christmas-time I 

When hearts must sing and bells must ehime! 

Our Bennie at the peep of day 

Thre^^^ dro^A^sy thoughts far, far away, 

And at the ^vindow stood to see 

The rising sun so gloriously 

Proclaim to all the listening earth, 

"This is the day of Jesus' birth!" 

Into his clothes he scrannbled fast, 

And down the stairs he flev^ at last ; 

Cried, " Merry Christmas I" to Aunt Prue, 

The same to Auncle Amos too ; 

Then out across the barnyard, where 

He rang his greetings on the air. 

That all his farmyard pets might know 

What made his heart with pleasure glov^. 

Thro^^^ing the barn doors open AA^ide, 



[Do poked his curly head inside. 
"A Merry Christmas, good old Grey!" 
The mare responded with a neigh, 
And Bennie standing on his toes, 
Kissed lovingly her soft bro^A^n nose. 
No^A^ then, the first thing I ^A^ill do 
Must be to find for Auntie Prue 
Some eggs for that big pudding she 
Is going to make to-day for me ; 
Oh ! shan't I have "—alas ! M^hat thought 
In Bennie's heart just then was born 
To drive the sunshine from his eyes, 
And make him sad that merry morn? 
He knew his mother thought of him, 
In her poor home, vv^ith eyes so dim 
With unshed tears, she scarce could see 
The ^A^ork she sewed so \vearily. 
No happy Christmas day for her; 
No joy to make her pulses stir 
As Bennie's did, nor to her share 



^^Oulsl fall his sumptuous Christmas fare. 

What v^onder that all signs of joy 

Fled from the blue eyes of her boy 1 

'' But she has got my money now f 

(Back rolled the eloud from Bennie's brow, 

While dimples gathered thick and fast). 

''And I have helped mamma at last I" 

Oh, cheering thought! Straigh^vay our Ben 

Became a merry boy again, 

And when the party ^vas begun, 

No happier child beneath the sun 

Could e'er be found than Bennie Moore, 

Who played as he ne'er played before. 

And oh! the dinner! there they sat, 

The children — rosy-cheeked and fat. 

Their appetites far more than able 

To do full justice to the table. 

While farmer Green and Auntie Prue 

Helped them to eat and chatter, too. 




mm} 



feo! fop the garret dim and wide, 
Cobwebbed with dust from side to side ] 
Thither the children, girls and boys, 
Betook themselves and all their noise, 
Intent upon a hunt throughout 



©I^O time-^A^orn rubbish stored about. 

What fun they had! and how they played 

That they ^^/ere pirates, making raid 

Upon such prey as came their ^vay. 

Till Bennie, with a shout so gay 

That it ^A^ent ringing through and through 

The house, and startled Auntie Prue 

And Unele Amos as they sat, 

Having an after-dinner ehat — 

Discovered in an old-time ehest 

A little sailor suit. In jest 

He slipped it on. " See, fellers, see I 

It's almost little enough for me. 

I'd like to be a sailor boy 

And go to places far av/ay, 

And see such lots of curious things 

As sailors see. I ^vill some day. 

My father M^as a sailor, he 

Was fourteen v/hen he ^A^ent to sea. 

I knoAA^, because he told mie so. 



JMUl then, you see, he didn't go 

As big men do. He ran away — 

My father did, one sumnnep day. 

And left his home. I think that / 

Would rather have stayed to say good-by. 

He didn't though, he thought 't^^^as fun 

To run a^A^ay. The thing was done 

Before he scarce had planned it, see? 

He used to tell it all to me, 

And then he'd look so sad, as though 

Some things had grieved him long ago." 

Now it had chanced that Bennie's shout 

Had draAA^n the farmer from his chair. 

And hastening to the garret stairs. 

He paused awhile to listen there. 

" For like as not some mischief they 

Will do before the close of day." 

Thought he, and standing there, had heard 

Of Bennie's story every ^A^ord. 

And still he stood with his gray eyes 



%/l^ov/n AA^ide ^A^ith \vonder and surprise. 

While little Ben, in suit of blue, 

Telling his story, little kneAA^ 

Of the one auditor, unseen, 

Whose listening ears gre^A^ sharp and keen. 

Ben's little heart AA^as stirred AA^ith pride, 

As ''Tell us morel" the children cried; 

He loved to talk — they loved to listen. 

And \\ow his eyes began to glisten 

As in his childish Avay he told 

The story now^ to him so old. 

''Well, papa used to tell to me, 

Ho^v he grev/ tired of the sea, 

And v/ent back to his home again. 

And stayed a^vhile, and then — and then 

Some trouble came to him, and so 

He v/anted once again to go 

Av/ay from everybody, and 

He did so. I don't understand 

Exactly hovv^ it was, for he 



^o^jIgI often put me off his knee. 

And up and do^A^n the floor v^ould v/alk, 

And stop me ^A^hen I ^A^ished to talk." 

The farmer's face grevv^ sad and ^A^hite, 

He clenched his strong hands hard and tight : 

Long years ago a ^^^ay^A^ard brother, 

The youngest born — whose v/ido^A^ed mother 

Had left him ^^ith a dying prayer 

To brother's and to sister's care, — 

Had quarreled with his brother's \vill, 

And run away, alas! and still 

The grief ^A^ithin the hearts he left 

Was such as then. The home bereft 

Of that young brother's form and face, 

Still held for him a AA^eleoming place 

Should he return— though years had flown, 

And of his life no AA^ord was known, 

Till no^A^, the elder brother heard 

Through Bennie's lips, sad M^ord by ^A^ord, 

Of him their love had borne in mind, 



^^lLl2 thoughts so tender and so kind. 

How^ plainly no^A^ could all be seen 

By the excited Farmer Green ! 

His AA^andering brother's very nam^ 

He'd changed, that he might quit all claim 

To the dear home, and none might knoAV 

Of him whose pride had fall'n so low. 

But Bennie still talked on and told 

How^ poor they were ; so often cold 

And hungry, too. "But yet/' said he, 

" Father ^vas al^A^ays kind to me 

And my mamima!" ''So kind," he cried, 

Speaking the Avords ^A^ith boyish pride 

In that dear father's love, "that when 

He died, v/e scare could smile again 

For such a v/eary ^vhile : I hiow 

That something vexed him long ago. 

'Cause once I heard my mother say 

'You'll see your home again some day.' 

' I have no home save here with you,' 



i%y father said ; ' too proud am I 

To turn to those I've hurt, and cry 

After so nnany years, for aid ! ' 

These are the very AMords he said." 

With tears upon his sun-broAvned cheek, 

Old Amos Green his sister sought. 

" Come I " as she stared at him amazed, 

" Come, see ^vhat this strange day has brought 

To us." He led her tremiblingly 

Up the old stairs that she naight see 

The little '' chore-boy " of the farm 

Still in the sailor suit arrayed. 

The farmer grasped his sister's arm. 

"Speak, Prue, whose suit does Bennie wear? 

She turned, and o'er her face a shade 

Of anger passed. " Ho^A^ did they dare 

To use ^/m^ in their play?" she cried. 

Old Amios drew^ her to his side. 

" Our long lost brother, dear, is dead ! 

Ben wears — his^father s sinlf" he said. 



©I^St night a liappy little boy 
Knelt dovs/n to pray in ^A^ords of joy 
And praise, to the good God above, 
Out of a heart o'er full of love. 
For had he not at Auntie's side, 
Learned ho^v the blessed Christmas-tide 
Had given him a legal right 
To love his ne^v-found home so bright? 
And listening to the sad, sweet tale 
Of his dead father's boyish years. 
What gift more treasured than the suit 
Once laid a^vay w^ith many tears. 
But which in merry, boyish play, 
Hed proudly \vorn that Christmas day? 
And think you it ^A^as long before 
Ben sa^A^ his dear mamma once more? 
Ah, no indeed 1 for Farmer Green 
No moments ^vasted ere he eame 
To our big city one fine day 
Another sister dear to claim. 



©0 found her in her lonely room, 
Just at the early tAA^ilight's gloonri, 
And gently broke the weleonne news 
To her AA^hose her heart could not refuse 
To listen and believe. She heard 
Him through, and then at the last word 
Fainted for joy, for she was weak, 
E'en \vhile her ^'brother'' kissed her cheek. 
But joy ^A^on't kill, they say, and so. 




LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



IP^GF tired heart put off its woe, 
And all her cares and all her fears 
Were \A^ashed away in happy tears. 
No need to tell of the glad day 
When Bennie, rosy-eheeked and gay, 
Stretched out his arms mamnria to greet, 
And weleonfie with his kisses s\^eet 
To the old home, \vhere Auntie Prue 
A sisters v/elcome tendered too. 
No need to tell ho^v Farmer Green — 
The happiest "uncle" ever seen — 
The joyous ne^vs spread far and Avide, 
With Ben (to help himi) at his side. 
But this I'll say, that to this day 
Old Amos Green his full heart lifts 
In loving gratitude for those 
'-'' Most unexpected Christmas gifts.' 




015 971 052 ft i 



